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Tuesday, January 31, 2017

AELFA,
THE GRAND CAPITAL of the once mighty Aelfan Empire, has fallen. Barbarian war
parties and nomadic tribes harass the retreating and broken legions that once
overawed them. All that stands against them now is the city of Zyren, the last
bastion of Aelfan rule.

Acting
as a spy for Zyren is Grant Scotland, a man leading a double life because his
own had been taken away from him by the very people he serves. An unwilling
recruit into the business of clandestine missions and deceit, he searches for
anything real to cling to as the world around him devolves into insanity. And
when an old friend shows up asking him to help save his family by delivering a
mysterious book to a shadowy figure, Grant's two lives collide and he is thrust
into an even stranger world than he had known; one where ancient magic is
wielded by deadly players who compete against one another for a prize greater
than simply the rotting carcass of a dead empire.

Spy for a Troubled King
(Book Two)

AMONG
THE ASHES of the mighty Aelfan Empire, the House of Gregyan seeks to forge a
new kingdom—one where both Huthan and Aelfan alike can prosper. But old
prejudices and ancient traditions and an exiled enemy threaten the peace.
Caught between compassion for his home and allegiance to his fallen empire,
Grant Scotland finds himself trapped in the turbulent machinations of enemies
and friends. As he works to uncover mysteries about his father’s treachery and
confront new threats to his future, he moves perilously close to revealing his identity
and losing everything.

Spy for a Wayward Daughter (Book Three)

AS
THE GREGYANS MARCH TO WAR and his handler takes a trip to Zyren, Grant
Scotland, spy errant of the Aelfan Empire, gets ready to pursue a lead on
finding a man who might be able to tell him the truth about his father's
treason. Old friends, new enemies and hidden dangers soon confront him on his
quest, but when he enters the dark world of another family's intrigue, he finds
that not even the frontiers of the Aelfan Empire are far enough away to escape
the dangers of fortune and fate.

The Unlikely Spy (Volume One)

The
Adventures of Grant Scotland series is an entertaining mix of fantasy, mystery
and espionage featuring a hero whose many faults provide almost as much
challenge to him as the formidable obstacles he must face as he attempts to
impose sanity upon a world rapidly descending into chaos. Collected in this
volume are the first three books in the series: Spy for a Dead Empire, Spy for
a Troubled King and Spy for a Wayward Daughter.

Spy for a Greedy Villain
(Book Four)

RACIAL
TENSIONS IN AELFA simmer and threaten to boil over when the harbormaster is
found dead and the Huthan oppressors threaten to crack down in the Lower Docks.
As Grant Scotland finds more questions than answers in the journals of Berthul
Magnussen about his father’s treachery, he is drawn into a murder
investigation, a kidnapping plot and the nefarious machinations of the city’s
biggest crime lord—Mr. Quinn. In order to stop Quinn’s plans and save the city
from being thrown into open revolt, Grant prepares to take his biggest gamble
yet.

Excerpt from Spy for a Dead
Empire (Book One):

Everything
that ever happened to me since I was a kid played out in my mind and I was
eagerly explaining every moment and why it was important to the foot of the
table near my head as I regained consciousness. Unfortunately, my mouth wasn't
cooperating, so I'm fairly sure the only sound that came out was
"Mmurfermumf?" The foot of the table had no response. I didn't blame
it. I'm the same way. I get embarrassed when I'm around people who talk about
themselves too much, too.

I
tried to get my hands up under me and push to get up, but I didn't even get
half of that done before I decided to knock off and maybe try again tomorrow.
My head felt like a lead weight and a constant ringing was filling my ears.
After a few minutes passed I decided I could maybe twist around a bit and get
on my back, which I managed to do with all the speed of a garden slug.

My
vision was slowly clearing and sharpening and I could tell I was in a dark room
somewhere with dim light coming from partially shuttered windows. Suddenly I
remembered the horse and the rain and the door and looked around quickly to see
if my assailant was nearby.

I
deeply regretted that action as blood roared in my ears and a wave of nausea
almost overwhelmed me. I choked and screwed my eyes shut and stayed perfectly
still and after a time I was able to breathe and open my eyes again. Good thing
whoever hit me wasn't still around. If they were, I'd have given them what for
by throwing up all over their shoes.

Have you ever had an imaginary
friend?

-You
mean besides Grant Scotland? No. At least, I don’t think so. Unless he’s there
and I just can’t see him. That would be kind of silly, right? I mean… Wait. Did
you hear that?

Do you have any phobias?

-Fear
of success. The problem with success is that once you achieve it then
everyone’s expectations of you go up dramatically. It’s real. I’m working on
it.

Do you listen to music when
you're writing?

-Yes!
I would never describe myself as a “music person” because I couldn’t tell you
my favorite band or type of music, but I have a Pandora station I’ve put a lot
of time crafting into something that plays stuff I enjoy. It helps loosen the
creativity muscles.

Do you ever read your stories out
loud?

-Rarely
and only when I’ve written something that makes me laugh.

Tell us about your main character
and who inspired him.

-Grant
Scotland is a hero whose many faults provide almost as much challenge to him as
the formidable obstacles he must face. His creation was inspired by Chandler’s
Philip Marlowe, Parker’s Spenser, Burn
Notice’s Michael Westen, Cook’s Garrett and basically every character Bruce
Campbell has ever played.

Don’t
forget to visit the other stops on the tour for more original content and
chances to win!

Author Bio
and Links:

Writing
stories infused with the smoky charisma of classic film noir mixed with the
pulse-pounding excitement of adventure fantasy and the cagey class of
suspenseful espionage, Dan McClure brought the best parts of all of our most
cherished pulp together and added his own signature brand of wit. He currently
lives, writes and works in and around beautiful and historic Arlington,
Massachusetts.

Friday, January 27, 2017

Her Cree
grandmother called it the gift of seeing, but for Petra “Pete” Orvatch, knowing
things in ways that defy explanation has made reality and fantasy blur in a
world where the clocks literally go backward. Her fascinating and clairvoyant
mind is a riddle that many doctors have tried to solve with medication. Love
comes her way unexpectedly when she meets Fiona Angeli, a stunningly beautiful
single mother. A risk-taker by nature, Fiona is not scared off by her new
lover’s psychic abilities and eccentricities.

The two
of them share passion and secrets on a magical and surprising journey, and
their torrid love affair takes them to thrilling new places until betrayal
divides them. Both these women fight battles within themselves; Fiona must gain
control of her dangerous compulsions, and Pete’s onerous gift ultimately puts
her at risk of losing herself in the gap between delusions and the real world.

Pete
looked up from the mystery she was reading and scanned the faces in the waiting
room. There was Tired Pinched Mom, with faded blond ponytail and dark roots
coming in. She had one kid under control and was now quietly negotiating with
the other. Next to this trio sat Man Too Large for His Seat, who seemed to be
staring at his shoes or sleeping with his eyes open. In the corner was someone
so nondescript she couldn’t instantly name her—then it came to her: Any Woman.
This woman was neither thin nor large, short nor tall, and had a slightly
exotic yet familiar face. She looked as if she could be from many different
places, like Greece, Morocco, Central America, or New Jersey. She was
text-messaging so quickly, Pete half expected her thumbs to spark and set fire
to her phone.

Doesn’t
anyone people-watch anymore? Was she the only person left who liked to read
faces and create narratives? Maybe so. She’d never stop doing it. She’d been
spinning this stuff since she was little—much to the annoyance of her mother.
Instead of acknowledging the creative gifts of her child, or at the very least
being entertained by them, she’d say, “God will punish you, Petra Marie, for
thinking bad thoughts about people and making up lies.”

Some
traits must skip generations, because Grandma Sweets had the right attitude.
She’d join right in and embellish her granddaughter’s rough outlines of
strangers’ lives with additions that could only come from a seasoned mind. If
Pete said a passenger on the bus looked guilty, Gram Sweets would say, “Of
course he looks guilty, he ought to! Instead of cooking a turkey for
Thanksgiving, he cooked his wife!”

Her
reminiscing was perforated by the staccato ring of a telephone.

“Cambridge
Holistic Health and Wellness Center, please hold.”

Please
hold? No one else is on the line; is this receptionista just fucking with the
caller? Pete dog-eared the page in her paperback, closed it, slipped it into
her bag, and decided to devote all of her energy to observing. She was just
about to make up a story about the receptionist when her eyes landed on
something strange. She hadn’t noticed the cheap plastic clock on the
wallpapered wall before, but now she couldn’t take her eyes off it because the
second hand was moving backward.

At first
she thought she was seeing things, since her imagination was such a
well-developed muscle. So she did something that made her feel seven instead of
thirty-seven. She closed her eyes to reset, inhaled a long, slow breath, and
then opened them, hoping this simple act could alter what she saw, or make
things feel right again. She didn’t return her gaze to the clock right away,
but rather avoided its face like you would dodge direct eye contact in a volley
of flirt-and-stare with a stranger who’d caught you looking.

She
panned her eyes evenly over all she had just taken in. Now the previously
obedient child of the two was acting petulant, Man Too Large for His Seat
actually was asleep, and Any Woman had stopped texting and was staring back at
Pete. This startled her a bit. She looked away and then forced herself to look
at the clock again. The red second hand was still moving backward and now
instead of 2:27, it was 2:26, and the room seemed brighter to her than it had
been just a minute ago.

“Petra
Orvatch?”

She heard
the automaton call her but she couldn’t move—she felt obligated to monitor the
clock and confirm that it was in fact going backward, but knew she shouldn’t
say anything about it. It was one of those times when she couldn’t expect
people to understand her. These occurrences had happened ever since she could
remember and could be confusing, amusing, or even downright dangerous.

There’s never truly just one
thing, is there? ;) I suppose if I’m being totally honest, I couldn’t live the
life I crave without my own creativity in all the forms it takes. I don’t know
any other way to be except to express honestly what’s in my heart, mind, and
soul through words, music, and visual art.

What internet site do you surf to the most?

Admittedly, this response sounds
the most boring to me of all the ones I’ve given so far, but that would have to
be Google. It is the gateway to just about everything else. Hell – Google headquarters is in the San Francisco Bay Area, so we’ve
been Googling a lot longer than other places…

If you had your own talk show, who would your first three
author guests be and why?

I’d want to interview Tig Notaro because
she made me laugh hard and think deeply when I first saw her on a small stage
in San Francisco years ago, and because her show “One Mississippi” is
brilliant. I’d be honored to have Ellen DeGeneres as a guest because she’s
amazing. I just wouldn’t mention the college affair I had with one of her
former lovers… and lastly, I’d like to interview Michelle Obama because she’s
Michelle Obama. Also, with these three courageous and articulate women on the
show, my inexperience as a host might be overlooked!

When you got your very first manuscript acceptance letter,
what was your initial reaction and who was the first person you told?

I read it slowly three times to
make sure it was not another tactfully worded rejection. Then I said, “Holy
fuck!” to myself. I shuffled in stupefied disbelief into the office where my
spouse was and shared my exciting news.

Medella
Kingston fell in love with writing at an early age and published articles,
poems, and stories when she was growing up. She wrote, performed, and sold
songs for movie soundtracks, and continued writing short stories for her own
pleasure. She currently sings in the band Omnesia, which has aired locally on
UC Berkeley’s radio station and been heard as far east as Goa and the Mumbai
University. She lives with her partner and their two dogs in the East Bay.
PeopleFish is Medella’s first novel, and she is currently working on a new
book.

Tuesday, January 24, 2017

This
story is about Abram, a hopeless romantic who enrolls into college and begins
leaving love notes for the girl, Jec, who works at the front desk of his
student apartments. About why they know each other when neither have even met.
That's right, she had seen his face only two weeks earlier, when he tossed his
book bag in the middle of the street, holding up traffic like a mad homeless
man. But what she doesn't know is that just before he came to grab his keys to
move in, the handsome albeit strange eyes and the person they belong to had
just been released from the county jail.

The
jail cell talk without any cameras around to record make his last 51 minutes in
the pen with a sketchy bunkmate a do or die conversation that may explain why
he became homeless, why he wrote the love letters in the first place, and if
both were random at all.

Excerpt:

The
same day in August, 2015

I
think, for the price of a pizza, the experience of the novel is priceless.

A
literary ecstasy, this was not a book I wanted to lend. I had to have it.

My
co-worker interjects my thoughts, “Is that lighter fluid? What is he burning
out there in our fire pit? I’m telling you Jec, that dude killed somebody. You
haven’t seen him around as long as I have. The way he’s always scrunching his
face, looking like a stone cold killer with all that stinking thinking. Some
people struggle with who they really are. And when it goes foul, you know they
don’t always catch these people.”

He
picks up and holds out the book I am reading titled Wait For You, and says,
“Some novels you have to read twice to really see all the beauty in the
nuances, but these plots don’t always end beautifully Jec. You should start
reading more of them.”

I
take a bite out of an apple and stop scratching my thumb across a squiggled
smear on my permanent marker to look out the window as I reply to my front desk
co-receptionist, “Bobby, you’re being ridiculous. It just looked like he pulled
some papers from a box and threw them into the pit. Hey, where’d he go?”

Bobby
answers quickly, “No really, have you seen him using his hands on the street?
He’s probably practicing some lethal judo that nobody knows right now.
Hi-yah!—”

Ding-Ding.

At
the sound of the front door bell I tried to smother my giggle in
professionalism, but I no longer found it necessary to suppress as the blurry
silhouette of the person entering the front door became clear and my laughter
came to a sudden halt.

Do you have any tattoos? Where? When did you get it/them? Where are
they on your body?

LOL.
Yes. I love body art! I had all of my tattoos done while I was completing my
bachelor’s. I have a rose on my right chest, a cross on my left chest, and my
twin sister’s nickname (since we were little kids) on the inside of my right
bicep.

Is your life anything like it was
two years ago?

That’s a humongous no. I was homeless
two years ago, living in a tent.

How long have you been writing?

Since I was in that tent a couple
years ago. It started as a journal in the tent. And I eventually couldn’t stop
writing, but I wasn’t writing this story. After revisiting the journals one day
in February 2016, the scenes of this story came to mind and I decided to write
this novel.

What advice would you give a new
writer just starting out?

Write what you want to write, and live
in it.

Tell us something about your
newest release that is NOT in the blurb.

I’ll give you something that’s between
the lines in this one, and on the pages of the next:

Trouble.

You
are on your way to work, trying to balance the brown liquid in your coffee cup
by avoiding the pot holes, when suddenly, a young man throws his book bag down
in the middle of the four-way intersection just as you take your foot off the
break. He is irate, and besides the book bag, he possesses all the symptoms of
homelessness typical of your city, leading you to believe this is no
extraordinary event. Somebody down on their luck, and unable to control their
own impulse to blame the rest of us who get up and drag ourselves to a nine to
five.

It
is not until you come home one evening, turn on your television, and see a
familiar face on the five o’clock news that you realize you had seen this face
before. “Breaking news. A bomb detonated in South Georgia kills one, and it is
believed that the victim, a young female working at a local apartment complex,
was specifically targeted.” Oddly, you had seen the face on the screen
somewhere else earlier that day, riding in the passenger seat of a car driven
by a young female who everybody knows in town as Jec, short for Jack Ellie
Christianson. A hardworking and unassuming receptionist for a local apartment
complex, Jec is a quiet feminist with plenty of promise.

The
news anchor reports that the perpetrator had recently been released from the
city jail, and was known to be in close contact with the victim for months. A
relationship? With all the publicity around gender equality, the push for
women’s rights, and the prominence of women in major politics, it makes you
wonder, was this a case of domestic violence, or domestic terrorism, and what
is the difference? Who is this mysterious guy who showed up out of nowhere and
what part of this is love? There is no love without trouble. And it makes you
want to support what you have seen on the internet about the HeforShe movement
that much more. The seventeen minutes before he, Abram, was released from jail,
may just prove to be the most important seventeen minutes of his story, and Jec’s.
The reporter continues, “The suspect is a Georgia native who people say went
under the radar, until recently.”

Jeremy
lives in Colorado Springs, Colorado. He grew up in the south Atlanta area,
where he eventually earned a football scholarship to Duke University. After
experiencing enough life to form his own opinions, he enjoys sharing some with
friends, reading, watching fantasy thriller and romance films, listening to
music, and jogging when he is not writing. He writes new adult fiction.

Jeremy
would love to hear from you. Follow him on Twitter @JTRingfield, friend him on
Facebook, or visit his webpage at www.jeremytringfield.com

Monday, January 23, 2017

It’s time
for another summer of sun, sand, suntan lotion, sandals, and Speedos on Cozzi
Cove at the New Jersey Shore. Cal Cozzi’s seven bungalows are once again open
for love.

This
summer, sexy Cal welcomes back his brother and sister, who are confronted with
people from their pasts. Connor, the maid packed with muscle and mayhem,
becomes the subject of a handsome young psychologist’s study on human
sexuality. Tommy, the strapping, bald and tattooed local bartender, is
captivated with guest Cory Magnum, a police officer with a secret. Another
guest, Bill, a disbelieving pastor, is inspired by a vision of two sexy male
angels on the cove. And Cal and Michael reach a plateau in their relationship.

What
secrets, humor, tragedies, mysteries, and passions lie waiting to unfold in
this magical place called Cozzi Cove?

A soaring
golden orb turned the violet, pink, and tangerine sky into a canvas of blue.
Early morning was Cal Cozzi’s favorite time. Treading water in the cove that
had boasted his family name for generations, Cal felt as if his blood was the
bay water, his flesh was the sand, and his soul was the sun. And Michael
Rodgers was his heart. Michael swam over to him and wrapped his stocky arms
around Cal’s neck. Cal cupped Michael’s firm bottom and squeezed him in closer.
As Michael caressed Cal’s muscled back, they shared a salty wet kiss. Cal
looked up at a seagull gliding to the lighthouse in the distance. He pondered
having the freedom to fly away from Cozzi Cove, but there was no place he’d
rather be than in the confines of his legacy with the man he loved.

Cal’s
great-grandfather, Calvin Cozzi I, had built everything in the sleepy town on
the New Jersey shore, including the eight bungalows on the cove. This beautiful
spot was the result of sun and salt water wearing away softer rocks more
quickly than the harder rocks surrounding them.

Cal’s
legacy was passed down to him from his great-grandfather through his
grandfather, Calvin Cozzi II, and finally by his father, Calvin Cozzi III.
Cal’s father, sensing his son’s sexual orientation as a boy, had opened Cozzi
Cove as a gay resort.

Though
Cal had dabbled briefly as a professional football player, and then as a
restaurant owner, neither was a good fit. It wasn’t until after the unfortunate
death of his parents in an automobile accident that he found his true calling:
managing Cozzi Cove. The previous summer, Cal had been united with his
half-brother, George, an architect, and the two of them had recently completed
renovations on the bungalows, expanding them to add modern amenities while
maintaining their grandfather’s nautical theme.

The tip
of his head only reached Cal’s chin, so Michael had to stretch up to kiss his
nose. Cal’s Italian and Scottish heritage had given him height, auburn hair,
emerald-green eyes, an olive complexion, a strapping build, and a wide nose,
which, as noted, Michael liked to kiss. “Should we be skinny-dipping at the
start of a new summer season?”

“He can
get his own boyfriend.” Cal pressed his tongue inside Michael’s welcoming
mouth. It felt warm, and Cal wanted more. As Michael stroked Cal’s broad
shoulders and round pectoral muscles, prominent from working out at Cozzi’s
gym, Cal pressed his nose against Michael’s thick neck and enjoyed the scent of
vanilla. Michael’s African-American and Swedish heritage awarded him smooth
golden skin that Cal loved to caress. Cal thought about the eleven-year
difference in their ages, how they had met when Michael, still in the closet,
tried to gay bash him in an alley, and the year Michael still had left to
finish college. It was illogical and improbable for Cal and Michael to be
together, yet it felt incredibly right. At that moment, he couldn’t be more in
love with Michael.

George
Valis, wearing a violet polo shirt and white shorts that accentuated his
muscular legs, stepped out of Bungalow Seven and met them at the cove. “Hey, my
ex back in Maine dumped me, remember? Stop rubbing in your happiness, you two.”

“Have
breakfast with us.” Michael’s dimples appeared. “Cal is making a feast.”

“And
Michael is cleaning up after me.”

“As
usual.” George winked at Michael.

They got
out of the water and put on the terrycloth robes they’d left on a rock at the
water’s edge. Cal smiled at the sight of his brother’s height and eye color,
which was exactly the same as his own. Cal and George shared the same father,
with George being the result of Cal Cozzi II’s infidelity. They had met for the
first time last summer when George looked Cal up, and Cal couldn’t have been
happier to have a brother like George. He mussed George’s dark hair affectionately.
“After breakfast, I’ll pack a lunch for your ride back to Maine.”

Michael’s
shoulders slumped. “Do you have to go?”

Cal put
his arm around Michael, recalling the brother Michael had lost two summers ago
to suicide. “Bungalow Seven is always here for George.”

“Good.”
George grinned like a kid with a secret. “It looks like I’ll be staying for a
while longer.”

“Yeah!”
Michael gave George a hug. “Cal will make a special celebration dinner
tonight.” He kissed Cal’s cheek. “My favorite is surf and turf.”

“How
about I leave my turf and throw you in the surf at the main beach instead?” Cal
kissed Michael’s neck and then turned to his younger brother. “What’s up, bro?”

George
looked at them and giggled. “Clearly you two, just before I arrived.”

Thursday, January 19, 2017

After his twin dies in battle, it’s Patrick
Daniels’ duty to marry his brother’s fiancée. Too bad he can’t make himself do
it, and in his distress, he manifests a psychic talent that’s stronger than the
tornadoes in his native East Texas. Then a mysterious man from a place called
Club Raven steps in and sweeps Patrick off to the booming East Coast city of
Baltimore.

Club Raven veteran Remy Blanchard sees Patrick and
knows, even though Patrick is very ill, that this is the challenge he’s been
waiting for. He nurses Patrick back to health, and begins to teach Patrick to
control his talent. His methods might be unconventional, and Patrick might be
new to the kinds of sexual games Remy knows best, but the two of them find
something in each other that might be just as magical as the gentleman’s club
where they meet.

Max Bellame is working his way through 1870s
Baltimore as a medium, even if he knows nothing about spirits. He uses the
power of his mind to move objects, convincing his clients he's the real thing.

Andrew Meechum works for Club Raven, a gentleman's
club that doubles as a paranormal research facility. He sets out to debunk Max,
only to be fascinated by the man. Can Andrew convince Max to take a chance on
love, and to find his true calling as a medium, or will their personal demons
force them apart?

Tony Brazzio, co-owner of Club Raven, Baltimore's
premiere men's club in 1875, has a pocketful of cash and a chip on his
shoulder. He’s out to prove to his co-owners -- and himself -- that he’s not a
fluke, that anyone can be successful give the opportunity, no matter how poor
his beginnings.

Bull O’Brian and Dandy Gilroy are two hoodlums
from the rough streets of New York’s Five Points. They’re pickpockets by trade,
and both possess psychic talents that make them two of the best. When Tony
offers to bring them to Baltimore and give them the chance at a life of riches
in polite society, they jump at the chance, if only to steal the members of
Club Raven blind.

The best of plans rarely work the way they’re
intended, and things swiftly go from bad to worse for Dandy and Bull. There’s
murder afoot and a detective on their trail, and not even copious amounts of
hot, sweaty sex can ease their fear or guilt.

As for Tony, he’s faced with admitting his
experiment is a failure, something he’s loathe to do. It’ll take a great deal
of persuasion, a little luck, and a lot of lube to make sure his plans for
Dandy and Bull become more than just wishful thinking.

I’m Julia Talbot, and I write glbtq romance. I’m
here to talk about my book Happy Medium, which is the first book in the Club
Raven universe, a shared, historical AU. My partners in crime, BA Tortuga and
Kiernan Kelly have also written novels in the universe, and I love them all!

Happy Medium is about Max, who’s a small time con
artist in 1870s Baltimore. He’s using a talent for telekinesis to pretend to be
a medium, or someone who communicates with spirits. Andrew, who is a member of
Club Raven, a gentleman’s club which doubles as a paranormal hub in the city,
sets out to debunk Andrew, and sexy hijinks ensue.

I love the spiritualist movement. I’ve read
probably a hundred books about it, and that was one of the things that inspired
Club Raven in general. Spiritualism is based on the idea that the spirits can
communicate with the living, and that the spirits could move on to an advanced
state of enlightenment on their plane. The movement is actually American in
origin, starting in upstate New York, and Club Raven is set when it would have trickled
down into Baltimore, as well as crossed the ocean to England and France.

Now, I have to admit, what intrigues me most about
spiritualism is the idea that a medium, or spirit talker, is necessary to
communicate with the dead. By all accounts, some people were born to the
talent, but anyone could be a medium with enough practice and study. This idea
lends itself to all sorts of people taking advantage of family members
desperate to talk to dead relatives, especially in the time just after the
civil war in America. Charlatans were everywhere, and therefore, so were
debunkers. That’s my favorite part. Paranormal investigators like Arthur Conan
Doyle.

When I was a teenager I wanted to go to Duke
University and be in their paranormal program. I even got accepted to Duke, but
couldn’t go. I have an EVP detector on my phone. I adore ghost hunter shows.

When it came time to write Happy Medium, I wanted
Max to be a fake, but I wanted to give even that a wee twist. I hope I’ve
intrigued you enough to go try it!

XXOO

Julia Talbot

Meet
the Authors:

BA Tortuga

Texan to the bone and an unrepentant Daddy's Girl,
BA Tortuga spends her days with her basset hounds, getting tattooed, texting
her sisters, and eating Mexican food. When she's not doing that, she's writing.
She spends her days off watching rodeo, knitting, and surfing Pinterest in the
name of research. BA's personal saviors include her wife, Julia Talbot, her
best friend, Sean Michael, and coffee. Lots of coffee. Really good coffee.

Having written everything from fist-fighting
rednecks to hard-core cowboys to werewolves, BA does her damnedest to tell the
stories of her heart, which was raised in Northeast Texas, but has heard the
call of the high desert and lives in the Sandias. With books ranging from
hard-hitting GLBT romance, to fiery menages, to the most traditional of love
stories, BA refuses to be pigeon-holed by anyone but the voices in her head.

Julia Talbot lives in the great Southwest, where
there is hot and cold running rodeo, cowboys, and everything from meat and
potatoes to the best Tex-Mex. A full time author, Julia has been published by
Samhain Publishing, Dreamspinner Press and Changeling Press. She believes in
stories that leave a mark, and that everyone deserves a happy ending, so she
writes about love without limits, where boys love boys, girls love girls, and
boys and girls get together to get wild, especially when her crazy paranormal
characters are involved.

Kiernan's award-winning stories of gay romance
envelop diverse themes, varying from paranormal, to fantasy, and science
fiction to contemporary romance. She has over eighty titles in ebook and print,
published through a variety of houses. Her horror short story release,
"Cletus," appears in the Coscom Publishing's book “Bits of the Dead.”

Kiernan also writes young adult GLBT fiction under
her Dakota Chase pen name. As Dakota, she currently has three novels and
several shorter works available in print and ebook. Mad About the Hatter, her
YA gay romance, is a finalist for the American Library Association book list
for 2017.